“You are defeated only if you believe that you are!” That’s what some guy said anyhow,sometime, somewhere? Or some guy would have wanted to, if he had been on the ball. “No matter what others tell you. No matter that they be those that operate the floodgates of destiny. You are your own man!” Such kind and noble words! Yet, what a bunch of horseshit! Phony tough courage, straight from the local cinema’s big screen playing sixty years ago! Out of the mouths of a John Wayne or Henry Fonda or Robert Mitchum? Remember when Mom and Dad used to bundle you up and put you in the back seat and go to the movies? The Drive-Ins with those old silver metal car speaker that you hung on the rolled down windows half way up the hump of one of those dirt mounds. The stinky smell of years of overfilled garbage cans by the blockhouse in he middle of the lot that served as projection room and concession stand?
Males are the most emotionally vulnerable of the two sex’s as it seems they are cultivated from birth to naturally sacrifice themselves for their mate. The same with little girls is not the case at all. Though society casts the female as the weaker more vulnerable of the two, it is obvious in everyday waking existential actual realty, when push comes to shove, men are just totally expendable. Perhaps that is why it is harder for a male to want to really know his father on the same level of being totally conversant in everything he is capable of knowing about his mother. He dares not! Not at least until is father is safely dead and buried. Only then can he make him his hero, blameless and invulnerable not unlike the first generation of gods that were retired in their time back to a Valhalla.
The is not to say that men are victims of women! But they can be victims of their own foolish attraction to women for anything supporting a fantasy foolish based. Women are ruthless in their materialism. Certainly so by the time that the are well into middle age. The seem to work by a schedule that assures them that they are not missing anything that they had originally planned. They seem to despise those men who are dreamers but do not have ready means of support for these fantasies immediately at hand. They love to play at being all giving all nurturing icons, but in truth of fact they require constant watering and attention or they quickly become morose.
The trouble a man has from a woman doesn’t come from her but from his own persistence in believing an impossible fantasy about her that he simply won’t let go of. How odd that someone’s thought should proceed their life experience as opposed to the other way around? Perhaps those caught up in a dictatorial society are long conditioned to live in reverse? Always waiting for some command on high to react to immediate set of circumstances instead of be powered up simply by their own initiative. One major failing that so many fall into is protecting the families’ collective sense of guilt and making their shame an altar by never ever bringing it up or allowing questions to be asked about it. A shibboleth that remains sacrosanct all the way from childhood through to the grave.
Youth, now formally past, with insecure women, the topic of beauty and remaining so, being paramount. Walking alone now in the dark in one’s own corridors as if it is a part of an ongoing daily ritual. As if the goal was not to disturb the life going on outside by giving it reason to suspect that it is waning here within. Someone long past willing to be loved or to put up with more titillating horseshit. Working hard over the intervening years to kill one’s own passions. A convenient Savonarola! The movies never disclose the reality of the need for accountability for one’s actions past two hours and fifteen minutes of tiresome repetitive dialogue. No matter at this point that wherever one might be they will still be the same empty lonely mindful individual treading about that same dark room alone. The fraud of tender emotions being but a water stain upon the base of another wall left by strangers.
Some men as they grow old get a kind of crazy. Antsy and always needing to always be doing something. To never stop doing something, almost as if they stop, they will never be able to start again. And just drop dead. Some men can’t wait for their fathers to die so they don’t have to see them grow old. They secretly can’t wait till that point when the old man is long dead and buried now a distant memory. And then they can pull them out of the closet and remember only the good things and make him a saint or a God that never did any wrong. But then something starts making the son start wondering who in the Hell this old man really was as a man like himself? And then he won’t let that spirit rest calling on his ghost again and again to fess up. But he knows deep down that he can’t take the truth that his father was simply no less human than he is. And he knows that the smaller his old man becomes to him that he will be so much less than he is.
But then, remembering all the times he played Biff to his Willie in that infamous restaurant scene. So then what questions could he ask his old man that he hasn’t been able to ask himself over all these years? That the failure wasn’t the families’, or even his old man. It was his alone. Not simply because of anything he did, or didn’t do. Because there was plenty of that to convict him! But because that is what being a man is all about. Taking responsibility when no one else would dream to, or no one else should. You can look down on all those hundreds of houses below one stretching out towards the horizon as far as anyone can see and know that there is a world of hurt lurking in every one of them. But there is only one man there to take up that slack. Someone who has learned hard lessons of how to take it day after day and not say a word. Because that is what one is supposed to do for those that he loves.
Those that imagine their existence being caught up strictly within the confines of popular society are more likely to be intolerant of those many other strangers not participating in that same tiny universe. It’s a stinking rotten world if you want to have some love but come up dry! Don’t go looking for any acclaim when it’s ten minutes past your last success! Everything is negotiation and how much dough you have in your pocket in the moment. Nothing else seems to count. Certainly not good intentions. For in God we trust and all others get a damn bank account and keep your credit card balance paid up! If you don’t like that then just go live in your car, and be another LOSER!